


Give Me My Sin Again

by littledust



Category: bare: A Pop Opera - Hartmere/Intrabartolo
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-24
Updated: 2009-12-24
Packaged: 2017-10-05 05:49:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/38427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littledust/pseuds/littledust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jason struggles with his Catholic guilt over his relationship with Peter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Give Me My Sin Again

**Author's Note:**

  * For [amchara](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amchara/gifts).



> Title taken from Romeo and Juliet, as well as much of the inspiration for how to write about Jason's feelings. Happy Yuletide!

The most honest confession Jason ever makes is this:

"There are sins I commit that never feel like sins at all."

*

The world begins and ends in Peter's arms; their bed extends to the outer reaches of the universe. The world is warm, smells like boy and clean laundry, feels like the only heaven Jason has ever known. Later, he will examine the thought and consider that it is the only heaven he ever will know, but for now, there is only bliss. There is only Peter.

Everything they do is quiet, edged with the fear of getting caught, but Jason has come to associate joy with secrecy, love with darkness. After all, the only member of his family who loves him hides that love beneath a barbed wire wit; he is no stranger to concealing his deepest feelings. He murmurs hidden words along Peter's skin, mouths his devotion below the collar, where no marks will show. The more he feels, the more he buries, save for when he is in this sacred space.

The sacred and the profane: how is he to tell the difference?

"I love you, I love you, I love you," Peter whispers with the sweet passion Jason loves so much about him; loves so much, and fears so much. Peter's emotions pour from eyes, face, voice: even when he is not onstage, Peter is the most expressive soul Jason knows. It's a beautiful quality, and a dangerous one.

They would have been found out long ago if Jason were not so talented at keeping secrets. Peter doesn't like to talk about that.

"I love you, too," Jason whispers back, because he can't help but respond to Peter's sweetness, the melting adoration that sings in his bones. Sometimes he believes that he and Peter are dissolving into one another, lit from the inside out by a love that will not be contained. _I am a bush that does not burn,_ he thinks, and is ashamed for it.

He kisses Peter, a long, relentless press of lips on lips. Peter's hands slide down his body, fingers sure as they seek out Jason's secrets. They have done this many times, enough that Peter's body is as familiar as his own. Knowing the whole of one's world is a comfort. Jason gasps into Peter's neck, nips at it to get a little teasing of his own in. "God," he sighs aloud when Peter shifts his weight, pressing their naked bodies together and together and together. "_God._"

Once again he covers his mouth with Peter's, silencing himself. They have abandoned teasing one another, concentrating only on heat and sweat and the essential driving motion of the hips, slow rhythm ticking up in tempo, up and up and beyond, floating above the world and yet part of it with such brilliant intensity that it is almost too much--it is--Jason feels--

\--bliss.

Peter is still hard and heavy against him. In a daze, Jason pulls him closer, draws him in with both arms and a leg for good measure, brings Peter to final shuddering orgasm through sheer force of contact. God, he loves being able to do that to him, to do that _for_ him. His grip on Peter is enough to leave bruises, but it takes a few moments to persuade his limbs to loosen.

By unspoken agreement, they don't linger long in the same bed. Frequent sex is enough of a risk, but Jason still aches with loss, though Peter is only a few feet away. He knows that he is not supposed to feel this way, that a man is able to sleep alone without reaching out for what he cannot have, but Jason can only attribute this quality to whatever makes him reach out for Peter in particular. Always, when Peter goes to sleep in his own bed, Jason finds himself contemplating hell. Who is he, to damn his best friend for all eternity? He lusts for Peter, yes, but he loves him as well, with a warmth that seeps through the corners of his being, drowsy and lovely. Do the fires of hell come in such disguises?

"Stop thinking about it," Peter says sleepily, and then flashes a smile that Jason sees even in the dark. Then, so quiet Jason can barely hear him: "We're not going to hell."

Jason closes his eyes then, feigning sleep so as to avoid having this conversation again. In the past few weeks, Peter has achieved a tenuous inner balance between love and faith, a balance that Jason envies but cannot replicate. He is the keeper of their secret, but in his heart, he knows that hiding from God is like a child hiding under a blanket. Peter's newfound conviction does not come from self-deception, but from the inner strength that people so often miss when they consider Peter. The sweet naivete is what everyone notices, but Peter--Peter is Jason's rock.

He will always be there for him.

This thought presses a cool salve over his rawness of spirit, soothes him into an honest sleep. For one night, love is enough to allay his fears.

*

It is when Romeo tells Juliet that her kiss purges his sins that Jason believes that he has not been cast at random.

He knows this part well.


End file.
